The Prometheus Project
by Khadonra
Summary: A young boy, grown up admidst the conflicts surrounding the founding of Guardia Kingdom, is saved from certain doom one fateful night. By whom, and why? Kear finds himself in a strange place and time... He eventually discovers a rather shocking truth.


Note: This story is meant to function as a sequel to Chrono Trigger, Chrono Cross and Radical Dreamers. It developed inside my brain when I was trying to work out possible stories for a new game in the series. Now, after having given up nearly all hope for such a sequel by Square Enix, I feel the need to share this possibility. There will consequently be spoilers for all the games.

I'd greatly appreciate feedback on my writing.

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** The Prometheus Project **

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Prologue: Storm and Rescue**

To say it was snowing would nearly be a lie – the snow was falling so thickly, blown by such strong a storm, that one wondered how long it would take for the little town to be buried entirely. In fact, Kear did ask himself this question as he sat at the window, staring outside into the snow storm. But he worried only faintly about the weather; the weather was not what truly bothered him. Something else was on his mind, something much, much more important.  
The next days would decide the whole future, he knew. They'd decide whether there would even be one for his people, for his family, for himself.

It was Kear's father, a charismatic warrior named Sharn, who was the undisputed leader of this town, and of the surrounding villages. And it would stay that way. Kear swallowed. He didn't know how it had ever come this far in the first place. Why were they in such a situation, where everything, their whole future, was suddenly at risk?

Sharn _would _become king of the known world! It _had _to be!

But there was this rebel, a man - not unlike his father, Kear had to admit - who'd stepped forth and declared that he considered the union under Sharn's rule to be unfavourable for his homeland. And there'd been a conflict, first with words, then with weaponry. It had turned into a little war. And soon it had become very clear that these two men, Sharn and the one named Guardia, were fighting for nothing other than the throne of these lands.

Kear retreated from the window and walked over to his desk. It was getting dark already, so the boy lit a lamp. Tomorrow, his father and Guardia would fight a duel. Having realized that this battle should not be decided with armies, they had settled for one final duel, Sharn against Guardia, to the death. Everything was at stake.

Kear's future.

The boy sighed. He was his father's heir, and would take over his role, one day. Already he was Sharn's spitting image – the same dark, wild hair, the same green eyes and smooth, pleasant features. He was good with a sword, though truth be told, he didn't have much strength in his arms, and did not know any techniques beside the basic stances. And he lacked practice. Sharn, the famous swordsman, was still far better.

Still, Kear felt with certainty that if he were the one to fight Guardia, he'd emerge as the victor. He had seen Guardia fence at a handful of occasions, and never had he been impressed by the man's skills. In other words, he reasoned with himself, his father shouldn't have the slightest bit to worry about. His victory was as good as guaranteed!

And yet, Kear didn't feel at ease.

Maybe it was the weather. Maybe this nearly apocalyptic snowstorm simply came between him and his confidence, reminding him that there is, after all, a power much stronger than Sharn's fencing – nature.

"Go to bed, dear," he heard his mother's voice by the door. Kear turned and gave her a smile and a nod. He hadn't heard her come in in his brooding mood, and suddenly felt silly. Wasn't everything going to be alright? His mother's kind smile reassured him.

"I will, mom," he said quietly.

There was nothing to worry about. Nothing at all.

But being convinced still didn't make it true. He woke after a dreamless sleep, unable to tell how long he had slept or what time of the night it was. He woke to screams, and to noises that he couldn't quite identify. Alarmed, he stumbled out of the bed, and didn't notice that the earth was shaking – he painfully hit the floor.

Shrill screams, and sounds like explosions came from outside. And the room was illuminated by a reddish light, one that just made no sense, that shouldn't be there in the middle of the night.

Another earthquake roused Kear's survival instincts, thankfully. Without thinking he ran to the window, pushed it open and climbed through. He fell into the snow, and thus entered a realm of death, destruction and chaos.

It was still snowing, but not as forcefully as before. The snow did, however, hinder Kear from getting a good view at his surroundings. He saw only shadows and silhouettes of people hurrying past. Their screams sounded unreal and muffled by the snow and the deafening noises coming from the earth. Kear stumbled on, still not thinking, not understanding. Rumblings, shakings of the ground sometimes made him change direction, or stumble and fall. Once or twice the ground seemed to move under his feet, but with the snow he couldn't make out why. It was as if the ground was… was breaking.

It was no sooner than this that the full impact hit Kear. Suddenly completely aware of the situation, he whirled around and stared back at his home. As if sensing the importance of the moment, the snowstorm ceased for a while, revealing the town. In the middle there was Sharn's mansion, huge and imposing. It seemed aflame, as seemed to be many of the surrounding smaller buildings. And the ground was split in many places, huge cracks ripping apart the settling.

Horror seized him. The boy looked around in panic. The people were escaping, he realized; but they were also _dying_.

In some places, especially broad, especially deep clefts had opened, and their edges shimmered in a red light, as if of fire. They opened wider; they seemed to span over the whole town already, the whole village. And the ground sank as if swallowed by the clefts. And each earthquake caused the townspeople to lose their step and fall, never to be seen again. It happened all around him.

Kear hesitated, not knowing what he should do, where he should run, but eventually, he just continued stumbling into the same direction as before, just away from the houses. Hopefully away from the destruction.

Soon, snow and fire were everywhere, his hair clung to his face, and he'd arrived at a dead end. Before him opened a hole filled with fire, and he had nearly fallen into it; quick reaction – and a good deal of luck – saved his skin.

The ground crumbled. Kear took a step back, but it made little difference. The whole speck under his feet suddenly sank down half a meter. Kear backed away some more, but realized it was no use: Another deep crack had opened a little distance behind him, cutting off his escape route. He was trapped.

_No way out_. He would die like the people whose screams filled his ears.

Something made Kear look up. There was something in front of him, across the cleft. A shadow in the snow, a figure in the night, something different, something unnaturally, unexpectedly silent and calm.

Lightning stroke then, and Kear caught a glimpse of this person who, so unlike everyone around him, didn't scream, didn't run, and didn't die.

It was a tall man with a sharp face that had appeared nearly white in the lightning. The shocking thing, which had made Kear scream and fall backwards in inexplicable terror, was that the man had been staring right at him with a deep frown.

The next thing he knew was that he was being lifted up – by the stranger? How he couldn't explain, it seemed impossible that the man could have reached across the distance with his arms. But Kear suddenly found himself on the other side, and the shadowy figure loomed right next to him, gripping his arm, and dragging him away.

_"Come!"_

The words triggered something inside Kear, and while he ran beside the stranger, he cried out against the noise of the storm and the destruction. "My – my family, everybody, _everybody _– what about them? I – I must _help _them!"

He got a sharp reply, like a slap in the face. Cold and cruel it was, and all too true. "They'll die, and you can't stop it. _We don't have time!_"

Suddenly, they halted, and Kear was jerked around brutally, now facing the stranger. He stared into that face.

"Wh-what are you…?"

He trailed off, suddenly not sure what it was that he'd been going to ask. But one thing he was certain of: the man wouldn't answer anyway.

A light started glowing around them, or maybe it was them that started glowing… and then it was as if the world ceased to be, and instead there was only a whirl of colour, of shadow and light. The only thing to be seen – truly seen – was his strange saviour. It seemed to last an eternity – then he heard the other man curse quietly. He looked at him.

"Tsk, I cannot seem to…" For a moment, a look close to panic appeared on the man's face. Weren't there pearls of sweat running down the man's temples? It was clear there was some sort of struggle going on, but Kear couldn't tell what it was.

A hand shot up and fumbled at something around the stranger's neck.

"_Look!_" the man called hurriedly. He reached over and put something around Kear's neck. There was a glitter. "I can't – You'll have to –" It was not as if the stranger had trouble speaking. Rather, he appeared muted, as in calling from a distance. The light now seemed to reach between them, seperating them. It was another thing Kear didn't understand. He tried to look at the stranger, whose tone was growing urgent. He tried to listen to the words, but they appeared not to reach his ears.

"- help you – Lucca, it's…" The man was growing… faint, Kear suddenly realized. He was disappearing. And there was… there was something else now, too, but in his struggle to understand the stranger's words, Kear didn't dare to pay closer attention to all phenomena going on.

" – wrong with the future –" was the last thing that reached Kear's ears, then there was silence.

And there was silence indeed.

After a moment, the boy stirred. He raised his head, turned around, looked. He was standing in a... in a forest. The fresh, green grass was softly blowing in a breeze. The sky was blue, speckled with little white clouds. He saw them through the leaves of the great, old trees that surrounded him.

It was warm, very warm, and not the slightest hint of snow in the air.

Finally, Kear collapsed.


End file.
